Vouloir
by NowPanicAndFreakOut
Summary: It has always been said that Amelie was once a princess, but what exactly happened all those years ago? Why does she hate Bishop so much? AU, OOC. Rated T for now.
1. Prologue

_France, 1508 (9 years)_

I watched my town from the window. This was how I had always preferred to view my people- from a distance, where their common hands couldn't touch me.  
>"Go down there and you'll get diseases, <em>ma cherie<em>," Mama had always said. "Stay where it's safe, in the mansion." Any time I had tried to protest she would just say, "Think of the fun you'll have when your brother arrives." That was pretty much the only thing that kept me hanging on; knowing that somewhere, out there, was a sibling for me. I had dreamt of the adventures we would have for a long time and in a matter of minutes they could finally come to be real, so it was an understatement to say that I looked forward to Monsieur Sorrel's arrival greatly. Even though he was not related to me by blood I felt that we had a connection even now, when we had never met. There was a knock at the door.  
>"<em>Aborder<em>," I said as my attendee, Marie, entered the room with Mama and Bishop behind her. I always called my father Bishop; it was seen as disrespectful to call a king such a "foolish" term as Papa. Internally I always thought 'Bishop' held more stupidity, but I supposed the name was apt- my father had always loved chess, and he was much like a bishop in that once he set his mind to something he would only move in one direction: towards his goal.  
>Between my parents stood the boy. He was slightly taller than me, with red hair that was slightly wavy. It was evident that my parents had dressed him already as his clothing was opulent, positively screaming that it had cost a lot of money. He walked faster, with more enthusiasm, than my parents, and he bounded past Marie to greet me with a smile and a bow. He took my hand as he introduced himself:<br>"_Bonjour mademoiselle_, I am Sorrel Glisé." He kissed the back of my fingers and I giggled. He straightened almost immediately and I curtsied deeply, using my rather large skirts to their full effect.  
>"<em>Salut<em>, Sorrel. I am Amelie Vouloir, and it is a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to see your new residence?" This time I took his hand as he nodded and I led him out of my room, past my smiling parents and towards a fantastic friendship.

**AN: Hey guys! Sorry it was short, this was more of a prologue than anything but I can't say how long chapters after this will be... If you have anything to say, please leave me a review- this is my first fic and I want to know how to get better! Thanks for reading x**


	2. The Ball

**AN: So I realise that this isn't actually much longer than the prologue. Oh well. Maybe the chapters will get longer as the story carries on :) I used this chapter as a sort of practice at using descriptive language... Anyway, enjoy (hopefully)!**

_France, 1514 (15 years)_

I turned this way and that, trying to see myself from every angle. The mirror was not nearly wide enough for me to be able to see the full width of my dress, but what I could see was beautiful-definitely fit for Sorrel's ball. It was a deep burgundy with gold accents; the cut of the dress showed off both my small waistline and a generous amount of cleavage. My long blonde hair was not in its usual updo, but curling down my back in natural ringlets to just above the gold trimming running from hip to hip, from which a triangular strip of damask (in matching colours) dropped. The matching gold trim at the top of the dress was highlighted by a spectacular show of jewels draped around my neck, along with my golden cross. Since Sorrel had given it to me I had hardly taken it off. Out of the other three necklaces I wore, Sorrel had gotten me two- one golden chain with half a dozen rubies dangling from it, and another gold one with a single, large diamond at the end. Goodness knows how he afforded them, considering how he came from outside the royal family. With each new addition to my "collection", as he called it, my feelings for him grew. Ever since I'd met him I had to admit to having more-than-friendly feelings, but recently they had blossomed from a simple droplet to a puddle, then from that to practically an ocean. I turned away from the mirror, moving to the window I had been looking out of when I first met him. I saw the town, not as I used to as a swarming mess of microbes and other such nasties, but as a fascinating mixture of people passing by. The street below the palace was busy even at this late hour, some of them used to the grandeur of the mansion, some from distant towns; you could instantly tell who was who as the townspeople just walked past but the new men and women stopped and stared. A few saw me looking down at them- older generations curtsied then walked on, and a few younger ones, especially men, smiled and waved at me. I smiled back then stepped away. Dwelling on commoners, interesting as their behaviour is, can never bring productivity. I crossed the large room, past the dressing table, door to the wardrobe room, and four-poster bed to the door, and walked out into the corridor above the main hall.  
>The hall, in all its splendour, was filled with people. Royal people- barely known relatives from both sides of my family- and even a few common people (from Sorrel's family) all either danced or talked to each other. All the ladies looked beautiful and the men handsome, and at the middle of the room was the most handsome of them all- Sorrel. His wavy red hair looked impeccably smoother than normal, his outfit was lavish and regal in my favourite kind of navy; it made his bright blue eyes practically glow. He was gorgeous and as he turned to face me, he gasped, as if I were gorgeous too. I had thought I looked nice tonight, but after seeing him I paled in comparison. He excused himself from his conversation and ran up the stairs to join me.<br>"_Salut_," he said with a soft smile.  
>"Why,<em> bonjour<em>. Fancy seeing you here." He laughed at me and I couldn't help but laugh too- his girlish giggle was contagious. "You look fantastic. Who dressed you, Bishop?" Sorrel smiled again.  
>"Actually, it was Marie who told me to wear this. She said it was your favourite colour." He looked at his (rather shiny) shoes. "I wanted to impress you." In that moment of sweetness my feelings for him overflowed. I lifted his chin and looked into his eyes.<br>"You don't even have to try," I whispered, and I pulled him closer, completely on impulse, and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm as they moved against mine. It was brief but sweet, perfect. As we pulled apart we were both smiling. Our eyes seemed to say that we'd both wanted to do that for a while. He took my arm and accompanied me down the stairs to the ball, as a couple, as I'd always wanted it.


End file.
